Newspaper Page Text
SI VdnV nmilq Sournal, Draotrb la .frcrtiom, iru!turt literature, duration, local infriligtnriY anb -tre Jlrras of fyt'Saq.
ONE DOLZ.AS AND FIFTY CENTS
rEX AUtrUM. IV ADVAHCI. ,
PUBLISHED BY . .
HAPGOOD & ADAMS.
unit iiici. )
.VOL.. 40, NO 4.
SEPTEMBER 12, 1 8 55.
' WHOLE NO. 2032
Still on the tower stood the vane,
A Mack yew gloomM the stagnant air,
I peer'd athwart the chancel pane
And itf the altar cold and bare.
Aclog af lead n) round my feet,
A band of pain across my brow ;
Cold altar. Heaven and eartlf hall meet
Before yon hear my marriage tow,"
I tarn'd and hnmm'd a bitter aong
That mock'd the wholesome human heart.
And then we met is wrath and wrong
We met, bat only met to part.
Tall cold my meeting was and dry ;
She faintly smiled, she hardly moved ;
I saw with half unconscious eye
She wore the colors I approved.
She took the little ivory chest.
With half a sigh she tnrn'd the key.
Then raised her bead with lips compreat,
And gave my letters back to me.
And gave the trinkets and the rings.
My gifts, when gift of mine could please;
As looks a father on the things
Of the dead son, I looked on these.
ghe told me aU her friends had said ;
I raged against the public liar ;
She talk'd as If her love was dead,
But in my words were seeds of lira.
"No more of love ; your sex is known ;
I never will be twice deceived.
Henceforth I trust the man alone.
The woman cannot be believed.
.Thro' slander, meanest spawn of hell,
(And woman's slander is the worstj
And you, whom once I loved so well.
Thro' yon. my life will be accurst. .
I spake with heart, and heat, and force,
I shook her breast with vague alarms ;
lake torrent from a mountain source
We rushed into each other's arms.
We parted : sweetly gleam'd the stars.
And sweet the vapor-braided bine
Zmw breeaea fanned the belfry bars.
As homeward by the church I drew.
The very graves appear'd to smile,
So fresh they rose in shadow'd swell ;
"Dark porch," said I, and silent aisle,
There comes a sound of marriage bells.
[From the Christian Reformer.]
DREAM NOT, BUT WORK.
Dream not, but work ! Be bold I be brave !
Let not a coward spirit cr to
Kscape Irom tasks allotted !
Thankful for toil and danger be ;
Dot,', high csJl will make thee flee
, The vicious the besotted.
Think not thy share of strife too great :
Epeed to thy post, erect, elate :
Strength from above is given
T those who combat sin and wrong.
Hot ask now much, nor .count how long
They with the foe have strUen. -
Wage ceaseless war 'gainst lawless might ;
Speak out the truth-act out the right
Shield the defenceless.
Be firm be strong improve the time
Pity the sinner bot for crime.
Crush it relentless!
Strive on. strive on, nor ever deem
Thy work complete. Care not to seem
But be, a Christian true.
Think, speak and act "gainst mean device ;
. Wrestle with thos? who sacrifice
The many to the few
Forget thyself, but bear in mind
The claims of suffering human kind ;
So shall the welcome ntght, ,
Unseen, o'ertake thee, and thy ul,
Sinking in slumber at the goal,
Wake in eternal light I
DREAM NOT, BUT WORK. Choice Miscellany.
THE LITTLE SISTERS.
A PRETTY STORY.
..vi won. nnr, here, yesterday," said
tie genUe teacher of the village school,
as she placed her hand kindly on the
curlj head of one ol her pupils. It was
recess time, but the little girl addressed,
had not gone to frolic away the ten min
utes, nor even left her seat, but sat ab
sorbed in what seemed a fruitless attempt
to make herself master of a sum in long
Her face and cheek crimsoned at the
remark of her teacher, but looking up
she seemed somewhat re-assured by the
kind glance that met her and answered,
uVn ma'am I was not. but sister Nelly
was." , :
"I remember there was a litt'e girl
who called herself Nelly Gray, came in
yesterday, bu I did not know she was
your sister. But why did not you
come ? You seem to love study very
"It was not because I didn't want to,"
was the earnest answer, and then she
,nci ant flip AfCTi flush mrftin tinjred
aUJLUj nut " w J- o q
that fair brow, "but," she continued af
ter a moment of painful embarrassment,
"mother cannot spare both of us conven
iently, and so we are going to take
turns; I'm going to school one day and
sister the next, and lo-nightl'm to teach
Nelly all I have learned to-day, and to
morrow night she will teach me all she
learns while here. It's the only way
we can think of getting along, and we
want to study very much, so as to some
time keep school ourselves, and take
care of mother, because she has to work
very hard to take care of us."
With genuine jdelicacy, MissM-
forboie to question the child further, but
sat down beside her, and in a moment
explained the rule over which she was
puzzling her young brain, so that the
difficult sum was easily finished.
"You had better go out and take the
air a moment, you have studied very
hard to-day," said the teacher, as the
little girl put away her slate.
- "I had rather not I might tear my
dress I will slaud by the window and
. watch the rest."
There was such a peculiar tone in th
voice of her pupil, saying "I might tear
my dress," that Miss M .was led
instinctively to notice it. It was nothing
but nine enny print of a deep hue, but
it was neatly made and had never yet
be ;n washed. And while looking at it
she remembered that during the whole
previous fortnight that Mary Gray had
attended school regularly, she had nev
er seen her wear but that one dress.
"She is a thoughtful little girl," said
she to herself, "and does not want to
make her mother any trouble I wish I
had more such scholais."
The next morning Mary was absent,
tut her sister occupied her seat. There
was something so interesting in the two
little sisters, the one eleven and the oth
er nearly eighteeen months younger,
agreeing to attend school by turns, that
Miss M could not foibear observ
ing them closely. They were pretty
faced children, of delicate forms and
fairy-like hands and feet the elder with
lustrous eyes, red chestnut curls, the
younger with orbs like the sky of June,
her white neck veiled by a wreath of
golden ringlets. She observed in both,
the same close attention to their studies,
and as Mary had tarried within during
play time, so did Nelly ; and upon speak
ing to her sister, she received, too, the
same answer, " I might tear my dress."
The reply caused Miss M to notice
the garb of the sister. She saw at once
it was the same piece as Mary's, and
npon scrutinizing very closely, she be
came certain it was the same dress. It
did not fit quite so pretty on Nelly, and
it was too long for her, too, and she was
evidently ill at ease when she noticed her
teacher looking at the bright pink flow
ers thai were so thickly set on the white
The discovery was one that could not
but interest a heart so truly benevolent
as that which pulsated in the bosom of
the village school teacher. She ascer
tained the residence of their mother, and
though sorely shortened herself of a nar
row purse, that same night, having found
at the only si ore in the place a few yards
of the same material, purchased a dress
tor little Nelly, and sent it to her in such
a way that the donor could not be de
Very bright and happy looked Mary
Gray on Friday morning, as she entered
the school room at an early hour. She
waited only lo place her books in neat
order in her desk, ere she approached
Miss M and whispered, in a voice
that laughed in spite of her effort to
make it low and deferential, " after this
week sister Nelly is coming to school
every day, and oh, I am so lad !"
"That is very good news," replied
the teacher, kindly. " Nelly is fond of
her books, I see, and I am happy to
know that she can have an opportunity
. . 1 l , , m.
to smay ner oooks every day. men
continued, a little good natured mischief
encircling her eyes, and dimpling her
sweet lips, " but how can your mother
spare you both conveniently 1"
" O, yes ma'am, yes, she can now
Something has happened she didn't ex
pect, and she's as glad to have ns come
as we are to do so." She hesitated a
moment, but her young heart was filled
to the brim with joy, and when a child
is happy it is as natural to (ell the cause,
as it is for a bird to warble when the sun
shines. So out of the fullness of her
heart she spoke and told her teacher this
She and her sister were the child, en
of a very poor widow, whose health was
so delicate that it was almost impossible
to support herself and daughters, bhe
was obliged to keep them out ol school
all winter, because ihey had no clothes
to wear, but told them that if they could
earn enough by doing odd chores fortht
neighbers to buy each of them a new
dress they might go in the spring. Very
earnestly had the little gills improved
their siray chances, and very carefully
hoarded the copper coins which had
usually repaid them. They had each
nearly enough 6aved to buy a calico
dress, when Nelly was taken sick, and as
the mother had no money beforehand,
her own treasure had to be expended in
the purchase of medicine.
" 0, I did feel so bad when the school
opened and Nelly could not go, because
she had no dress," said Mary. " I told
mother I wouldn't go either, but she said
I had better, for I could teach sister
some, and it would be better than no
schooling. I stood it for a fortnight, but
Nelly's little face seemed all the time
looking at me on the way to school, and
I couldn't be happy a bit, so I finally
thought of a way by which we could
both go, aud I told mother I would come
one day, and the next I would lend Nel
ly my dress and she might come, and
that's the way we have done this week.
But last night somebody sent sister
dress just like mine, and now she can
come too. O, if I ooly knew who it was,
I would get down on my knees and
thank them, and so would Nelly. But
we don't know, and so we've done all
we could for them we've prayed for
them and oh, Miss M , we are
o glad now. Ain't you, too 1"
, "Indeed I am," was the emphatic an
And, when on the following Monday,
little Ni lly, in the new pink dress, enter
ed the school room, her face radiant as a
rose in the sunshine, and approaching
the (eachei's table, exclaimed, in tones
as musical as those of a freed fountain :
"I'm coming to school every day, and
oh. I'm so glad !"
Miss M felt as she never felt
before, that it is more blessed to give
than receive. No Millionaire, when he
saw his name in public prints, lauded for
his thousand dollar charities, was ever
so happy as the poor school-teacher,
who wore her gloves half a summer
longer than she ought, and thereby
saved enough to buy that poor girl a cal
[From the Oshkosh (Wis.) Courier.]
"CERESCO FREE LOVE UNION."
In the western part of the county of
Fond-du-Lac, Wiscosin, in a beautiful
district of country, lies the pleasant tow n
of Ceresco. Hitherto unknown to fame,
the locality seems destined to become
suddenly famous, as the location of those
modern socialist establishments of the
silver sort, which sometimes lead us. to
doubt whether there is in man the most
of the brute, the idiot, or the demon.
The history and doctrines of the estab
lishment we gather from the proceedings
of a mass meeting held in the neighbor
ing village of Ripon, called to see the re
port of an investigating committee, and
to take some steps to put down the nuis
ance. The doctrines of the Union"
were proven to be of the most disorgan
izing character, having apparently but
one common basis the lowest sensuali
ty. The horrible nature of these doctrines
may be judged of from the following
brief synopsis :
1 . The right of every woman to choose
whoever she will to perform the part of
a husband for the time, and to change
that person as often as she pleases.
2. The duty of the woman to yield her
self to the embraces of the man she
3. That these principles, when put in
practice, will bring about the millenium;
will do away with the pains of child
bearing, and alleviate human suffering
in various ways.
4. That fornication may be " holy."
5. That bigamy is no crime.
6. That the crime of adultery is" ficti
tious," and that what law calls adultery
may be the highest and truest relation
of which two persons are capable.
7. That bastards are the most beauti
ful children in the world.
8. Th it society ought to bo destroyed.
.9. That wives, though idolized by their
husbands, and supported in affluence, are
to yield to the love of other men if they
like them better.
Each and every one of the above "ar
ticles of belief is proven by the commit
tee, by reference to " book and page"
of the books which they circulate and re
ceive as text books, and by acknowledg
ment and public statement of members,
to be tie facto the belief, aa received and
acted npon by members of that licentious
band, not secretly, but open and avow
edly. The books referred to are the
" Esoteric Anthropology," and a work
on " Marriage ;" the former by a mist r-
ble stroling lecturer upon " Woman's
Rights," "Socialism," &c, T. L. Nich
ols, and the latter by the same individu
al, conjointly with a Mrs. Mary S. Gove
Nichols, one of the strong-minded women
of the aire.
The conclusion seemed to be, that if
the princples of the " Ceresco Union"
could be universally carried out there
would be " nothing left for us but a pros
pective generation of bastards and strum
Yet, strange as it may appear, in this
nineteenth century, in the midst of this
civilized community, there are men and
women who have the brazen hardihood
to put forth such doctrines do-'rines
which, if leceived, would turn the world
into a vast brothel, and set up such a vile
community, where, fulfilling Scripture
literally, we find every man " neighing
after his neighbor's wife." The regions
of the damned could hardly present the
realization of a more horrid picture.
We thiuk the people in the neighbor
hood of Ceresco would do well to protect
themselves against such people, as ihey
would against wild beasts.
Southern ' Povertt. The New Or
leans Delia tells the story of a poor(?)
woman being robbed of a one thousand
dollar bill 1 We don't know what is con
sidered poverty in the south, but in these
parts poor people rarely carry more than
a handful or so of such evidence of indi
gence about with them.
[From the Wesleyan.]
MERCY TORTURED INTO CRIME.
Read the facts narrated below and
feel your blood boil. Read the c mse of
offence and thank God that humanity is
not crushed out of every man who lives
within the reach of shivery. Read Da
vis' appeal to his brethren and sisters for
their justification, and let your heart
throbs answer the question. Read the
last words about his aged parents, and
let the unbidden tear drop scalding hot
from your red eye balls for you will
weep. Blinding drops prevent a finish
to these hurried words. They are sent
forth, hissing with contempt and hate for
slavery, to inspire in your hearts like
"Pardon Davis, a citizen of Marquette
County, Wisconsin, and a member of
the Seventh-Day Baptist Church, at Bur
lin, in said County aud State, had been
spending some time in Tensas Parish,
Louisiana, engaged in business. In Sep
tember last, however, he had settled up
his business in Louisiana, and was upon
the point of reluming to the North, when
he was met by a slave-hunter with his
doge, who drew a revolver, and threat
ened to fire upon him in case he should
stir or make a noise. He was brought
before a magistrate, who informed him
that he was accused of aiding slaves to
escape from their masters. The whole
town was soon assembled, in a high state
of excitement. The citizens, fearing that
the evidence against him would prove in
sufficient, formed themselves into a mob
for the purpose of inflicting lynch law
in case he should be cleared. Some
cried, hang him ; some, shoot him ; oth
ers, give him a thousand lashes on the
bare back. No one dared speak a word
in his behalf, save a lawyer from Missis
sippi. tie lniormea tue prisoner tnai me
chances were against him that if he
had been charged with larceny or even
murder, there might be hope, but little
hope as the case was. He was conduct
ed to jail, through a heavy rain, where
he was loaded with irons, his feet put in
iron stocks, his hands coupled together
with iron handcuffs, closely fitted.
These last were subsequently removed
next day for him to eat his breakfast
"The prisoner subsequently had his
trial, and was sentenced to' twenty years
confinement in the Slate Prison of Louis
iana, and is now in Baton Rouge, suffer
ing this penalty.
"From a touching letter, written by
the prisoner, in the jail, awaiting his tri
al, addressed to his brethren and sisters
at Berlin Church, we copy a statement
of the accusation against him, and the
occasion of his arrest. We remark it was
not proven that he furnished fictitious
passes to the fugitives as charged by his
accusers ; it was simply alleged that the
passes reambUd his writing, ink, paper,
" 'The cause of my being arrested, as
stated by Mr. Perkins, the negro hunter,
is: A man in Mississippi, having discov
ered a trail of runaways, sent for him to
come with his dogs and catch them He
went and caught them after running
them thirty or forty miles. Upon over
taking them, they all ran up to the fence
to get away from the dogs. He asked
them who they belonged to. They gave
him a fictitious name, at the same time
presenting passes, which he read ; But,
being a villain at heart, Perkins took
them down, one at a time, and set his
dogs on them. The negroes, after being
torn in a shocking manner, promised, if
he would desist, they would tell the truth.
The dogs being taken off, the negroes
made the following confession : We be
long to Mr. Dunkin, of Louisiana, and
the overseer, Huggins, whipped us near
ly every night, because, being new
hands, we could not pick cotton enough.
We stood this as long as we could, and
then ran away. We went to Mr. Davis'
woodyard, and told him our complaint.
He let us hide in the wood, and carried
us bread and water until last Saturday
night. He baked us some bread, gave
one of us a pair of shoes, another a hat,
another a shirt, a quill for us to sleep un
der, some money, these passes, set us
across the river in a canoe, one at a time,
and told us to go towards sunrise. But
getting entangled in the swamp, they
were overtaken. Each negro, after be
ing lorn by the dogs the same way, con
fessed the same.' "
The letter of Mr. Davis closes with the
following statement aud appeal :
"And now, after hearing what I have
writen, I ask my brethren and sisters,
thine fear of God, if a man should come
to you, presenting a lacerated back, ex
posed to the rays of a southern summer s
sun for want of a shirt, feet bleeding
Horn having been toin by snags and
briars, hungry and faint, whose crime
was that he failed, afttr straining every
nerve, lo perform the labor appointed
him I ask, would you could you
turn him away without assisting him 1
No, brethren, I think I know you too
well I think you would hand up a loaf
of bread, part with some of your surplus
lothing, or, if you had no surplus, buy
tome, as I did help them across the
river, point them to the slar of Liberty,
and bid them God speed. But even
these even to give a piece of bread
Subjects you to a precution, the penal
ty of which is not less than four nor more
seven years in the State Prison.
"If you could be on the plantation
near where I have lived, and, at night,
when the cotton is weighed, out of two
hundred not less than twelve are whip
ped every night 0 ! could you hear the
shrieks, cries, groans, prayers yes, if
you could see that victim on his knees
praying, with all the earnestness a man
is capable of, to that brutal overseer, and
promising to strain every nerve on the
morrow to pick more eolton it is enough
to melt the heart of any one. Who can
look on such srenes as these and not be
mcved 1 Brethren, I cannot. And now
what more can I say ? Have I done
wrong ? Have I done more than any
man ought to do? Dear brethren, I
leave you to judge; I am willing to be
goerned by your decision. I wait with
the greatest anxiety to hear from you, to
know whetherl shall-received your sym
pathies and prayers, or whether I done
wrong aud am considered a heathen. If
the former, I can bear my afflction with
fortitude ; but if the latter, I feel that
my life hangs by a slender thread
that my days are numbered. In the
meantime, brethren, pray for me ; sis
ters, remember me in your prayers.
"I must cease, for the last paper in
my possession is nearly covered over.
And now, my brethren, when you meet
to pray for heathen lands, temember,
0 ! remember our own country. Watch
over the declining steps ol my parents ;
'tis the greatest boon 1 can ask, for I fear
that this intelligence will bring the gray
hairs of loving father and affectionate
mother to the grave. Comfort them
with the thought that we may meet in
[From the Albany Argus, Aug. 15.]
COURTSHIP AND ENGAGEMENT BY
Some months since a young gentleman
of this city entered the Morse telegraph
office, and requested io be instructed in
such of the mysteries of telegraphing as
the ojierators could or would inform him
such as would not inteifere with the
s-jcrels of the office. The obliging ope
rator proceeded to do so, and in t lie course
of his instructions explained to the fresh
man the modus operandi of writing. It
should be known that at one of the sta
tions west of the city, in quite a small
but enterprising village, a female the
school mistress of the village is the ope
rator at the telegraph station.
While the operator in this city was
going through his explanations, the
office called Albany, and made a busi
ness inquiry, to which an answer was re
turned by the Albany operator, who, in
a professional manner, inquired the name
of the anxious inquirer, and sent it, with
the gentleman's compliments, lo the
office (wl icb the female had charge of).
Miss C (we mean the operator) re
plied returning her compliments, and
gave the state of the weather, fec, at .
The gentleman was "immensely" de
lighted with the idea of interrogating a
person, and that person a female, one
hundred and fifty miles distant, and
through the kindness of the operator ad
dressed several interrogatories to her, all
of which were answered in a most grati
fying manner. The novice in telegraph
ing was delighted, not to say enchanted.
He called again the next day and per
suaded the operator to again summons
the office. Again d.d he enjoy a
delightful tete-a-tete think of a tete-a-tete
one hundred and fifty miles removed !
with his charming incognita, or, we
should say, inamoriln, for the novice was
all absoibed in Miss C , as the se
quel will prove. For several days did
be cal1 and hold 'converse with the
office nnd its very obliging operator, each
day becoming more and more interes
ted. The subject of discourse, too, was
materially changed, insomuch that the
Albany operator began to feel in rather
a " peculiar perdicament," he being sort
of medium through which twolovers weie
holdin" communication. To be brief,
the" novice coutinued to call for the space
of two weeks, each day growing more in
terested, until at last he put the question,
direct and plump: "Will you marry
me?" The telegraph never hesitates;
it is a fast institution and those who are
connected with it become "fast," as if
by intuition. The lady consented, and
the notice, a few days after, went to ,
claimed his brioe and was married. The
parties are now residents of this city.
A writer of high reputation is often
praised for his faults, becaun?, in criti
cising acknow'edged genius, men tliiU it
j safei to prai-1; than to censure.
As her name is only known in her
theatrical profession, is of Jewish parent
age, her father, M. Felix, being among
the poorest of his tribe. Rachel Felix
wai the eldest of seven children and ear
ly began to aid her parents in their se
vere struggle to sain subs.stence for their
family. . Her career opeLed as a street
singer; with an old guitar on which she
played the accompaniment, the little Ra
chel went forth to win by her songs the
bread she was unable to earn with her
On a cold evening in January, about
the year 1830, Choron, the founder of
an academy for music in Paris, was
charmed by the silver voice of a .child
singing out the most delightful cadences
upon the keen wintry air. It was little
Rachel "singing for her supper." Choron
pressed through the crowd who were
gathered around her, and in utter amaze
ment gazed upon a delicate little girl of
ten or twelve summers, thinly clad,
and standing in the snow the very image
of desolation. With her benumbed fin-
fWAaw r-rtA Vn1, 1 nnt a v -a.-wl a n Ksnsrl frrV O.
vSt DUv UC1U UlAb 0 Tf VvSvlV U MV W "-'
sou, and in it Choron dropped a silver
w-w . 1 1 1 .1
coin, nis heart was touched, ana me
deepest feelings of interest for the little
warbler were awakened.
"Mv child," he asked, "who taught
you to sing so well "
"Nobody, sir" said the little
while her teeth chattered ; "I
learnt just as I could "
"But where did you learn those beau
tiful airs which ycu sing, and which I
do not know."
"Indeed sir, I have learnt a little of
them everywhere. When I go about
the streets I listen under the windows to
those ladies and gentlemen who sing,
try to catch the airs and the words, and
tfterwards ai range them the best way I
"Yon are cold nd hungry ; come
with me and I will give you food and
clothing." said the good Choron; and
the crowd clapped their hands. But
they lost their little Rachel, she never
arain sang on the Boulevards. Chcron
obtained permission of her parents to
give her a musical education, and under
nis tutition her jrondeiful vocal powers
rapidly developed. Death, took away
her benefactor, and she returned awhile
to her miserable parents.
The little girl was then just budding
into the bloom of a graceful and fascina
ting woman. She looked to the stage as
the means of obtaining bread, and suc-J
ceeded in making an engagement at the
Gymnase, one of the minor theatres of
Paris. She made no impression ; the
audiences refused lo applaud. She was
disappointed, but not discomfited. " From
an old clothesmerchant of her own lace
she borrow ed an odd volnme of Racine,
and was charmed with the tragedy of
Andromache. She recited the part of the
daughter of Helene, her eyes filled with
tears of deep emotion, and she said to
her mother, " I know my destiny I will
perform tragedy ?"
Through the influence of a retired ac
tor she obtained an engagement at the
Theatre Francaise, ana her appearance in
the character of Racine was greeted with
immense applause. The Parisians were
in ecstasies. The singing girl of the Boul
evards was apotheosized as the "Tragic
Muse." Her salary was first fixed at
4000 francs ; the second season it was
raised lo 150,000 francs. The courts of
France and England soon delighted to
pay her homage ; and within ten years
from the hour when Choron took her, half
frozen from the streets of Paris, she wore
a gorgeous diamond necklace with the
words " Victoria to Rachel" embla
zoned upon it.
Mademoiselle Rachel, is at the head
of her profession as a .tragic actress, and
her annual income is not far from thirty
five thousand dollars. Like Jenny Lind
in another public sphere, she has no
peer in her profession or the admiration
of the votaries of the drama. She might
have been one of the greatest of living
singers, but she preferred to aim at the
highest tragic eminence. That she has
Would that we could add, what may
be truly said of the sweet singer of Swe.
den, "Mademoiselle Rachel bears a spot
less reputation !" It could hardly be
expected, accustomed as the poor little
g rl was to scenes of misery and low vice
in such a licentious city as Paris, that
Rachel would grow up with much natur
al delicacy of feeling ; but genius should
have a purifying power, giving moral el
evation of sentiment to the soul of a
No doubt calumny has exaggerated
the leporls of Mademoiselle Rachel's
amours; nor ought she lo be judged by
the standard of Siddons, who was born
and trained in a land where female chas
tity is required as the crowning grace of
the actress. Still we do regret that a
shadow has fallen on the fair fame of
one who might have been, like Jenny
Lind, a glory to her sex as well as her
profession. But let as record her good
deeds. Mademoiselle Rachel is said to
be very charitable to the poor. She has
provided generously for her own family;
educated her sisters and brothers, and
never forettin? the humble condition
from which she has risen. As a memo
rial of her street-minstrelsy, she leligi
ously preserves her old guitar.
[From Correspondence of the N. O. Picayune.]
DEATH A SON OF THE AUTHOR
OF "ANASTASIUS"—HIS IMMENSE
WEALTH AND ECCENTRIC LIFE.
PARIS, May 3, 1855.
A few weeks ago, Mr. William II.
Hope, one of the sons of " Anastasius"
Hope, died in his hotel of the Rue Saint
Dominique, Saint Germain, leaving the
whole of his immense fortune, above two
millions of dollars, to a poor Englihsman,
a distant i elation, vegetating at Dover on
some hundred pounds a year. The will
contained a few legacies, among them
one to his mistress. He bequeathed her
$100,000. This legacy was too inti
mately linked with the other provisions
of the will for the heir to think of dis
turbing it, for, as you know, these mor
tuary commands are like Prince Rupert's
drop in their intimate interdependence).
But the woman had a pair of horses anu
carriage in Mr, Hope's stable, (ihey lived
maritally together,) alleged to have been
given her by him, and which were shown
to have been used by her constantly, by
none but her, and to have been constant
ly at her orders. The heir brought suit
to recover them, and they were worth
81,000 at the outside.
Mr. Hope was one of the martrys of the
Midas martyrology. He fortunately was
damned to none of those " rich men's
diseases," the gout and apoplexy, but he
could not escape ennui, that curse of
wealth. His only resource to kill time
(and he had not much to kill he died
only 52 years old,) was cards ; he spent
every season at Hamburg, sitting at his
tapis vert, and leaving never less than
810,000, and in 1850 25,000 to the
bank. His stable was sold recently, and
all his other personal effects are adver
tised as on sale. His hotel, with thn ex
ception of the de Rothschilds, Lehon,
Lanriston, M'Ue Hottinguer's (it is just
completed, the building has cost a million
of dollars,) is the finest in Paris, and is
most expensively decorated. He great
ly enlarged it when he purchased it 15
years ago from the Spanish government,
who used it as their embassy. He lived
there alone with his mistress, waited on
by 30 servants, and having few visitors
besides a well known card player, nick
named Le Bancal, who has the reputa
tion of being th& best card player, not to
be a Greek, possessed by Paris.
He made his fortune in Mexico at mon
te and the cockpit, and it is said that Mr.
Hope contributed 875,000 to his estate
since first they commenced studying the
Book of Kings together. The house he
lives in is worth 81,000,000, for it has
an immense garden, filled with avenues
of fine old lindens, as many fountains
and statues as at Versailles, and a cas
cade. The furniture is in keeping with
the hotels and ground ; it cost $400,000.
The talons are au premier, (our second
story) and can contain 3000 guests;
they are lavishly, too lavishly adorned :
the ceiling is most elaborately carved
and gilded ; they are lighted by 20
cardelabras of gilt bronze, each of which
cost 3000, and are filled with the rar
est Japan and Chinese porcelain vases,
some having cost 2,500 the pair ; the
staircose is not surpassed at Versailles ;
one of the buffets contains a dessert ser
vice of Sevres china, gold and blue, which
cost $12,000 ; and the antechambers and
smoking room are hung with old and su
perb leather, with gilt flowers. In a
word, gold, mirror, porcelain and carv
ing meet the eye everywhere. This
splendid suit of salons the master had
not seen since 1848! He lived on the
ground floor ; in all this princely man
sion there was but one chamber ; it was
on the ground floor, and decorated with
western art and oriental luxury. It look
ed on the garden and into two green
Louses. Who is there in Paris that ean
afford to indulge himself with a house
costing a rent of 860,000 annually ?
Bloomers is the Ascesdext. The
Kansas Tribune says : " Perhaps Law
rence is the only city in America where
a majority of the ladies wear Bloomers.
During a pleasant day they may be seen
in all parts of our place not walking out
for the novelty of the thing, but mak
ing calls and pursuing their ordinary avo
cations without even suspecting that their
costume was attracting unusual atten
tion ; and indeed, it docs not. The la
dies consider them far more convenient
than the street-sweepers, and they ought
to be the best judges."
Nothing but a good life can tit men for
a better one.
What a singular life has been that of "
Santa Anna, the President ofMp-nVn nf;
how strange the mutability 'of fortune
mat has atlended him ! His career for
the last thirty years may be thus brief! r
sketched.. - He came into public 'life -ia
I82J; was deposed from the command
of Vera Cruz in 1822; jn 1828 he again-
appeared as a republican : in 1 830 whlv
e(Tabout in iavor of Pedrazza."who b.
came President. At the next eWtirm v.
beeame President himself- rlfat,i
-jv- v uaa-.
Arista and D'Arran, and held his seat un
til 1835, when an insurrection headed by -Zacatecas
broke out against him. Ha
ing quelled this outbreak,' he proclaimed
nimseit dictator, and a large number of
those who rebelled against the usarpa,
tion, went to Texaa-nd predamed a
new government. A war ensued and he
was defeated and taken prisoner, bat
soon released, and in 1835 he lost hi
leg while defending Vera Cmj against
the French. In 1841 he was again
President, but in 1845 the wheel turned
and he again went to the bottom. 1
In 1846, during the war with the Uni
ted States, he headed the Mexican troops
and was defeated. Shortly afterward
he was again obliged to abdicate, but
was again brought back to the Presiden
tial Chair, which he soon changed into
the seat of an Emperor. This in turn h
was obliged to leave, and he is now once
more on his way to Havana, to remain
no one knows how long, and what hit
future fate may be it would require the
gift of prophecy to foretelL
SAVE MAN WITH THE RED
It requires great coolness and experi
ence to enter a course through the rap
ids of the Sault S. , Marie : and a short
time before our arrival, two Americans
had ventured to descend thera 'without
boatman, and were consequently upset.
As the story was reported to us, one of
them owed his salvation to a singular
coincident. As the accident took plac
immediately opposite the town many of
the inhabitants were attracted, to th
bank of the river to watch the struggles
of the unfortunate men, thinking any at
tempt at a rescue would be hopeless.
Suddenly, however, a person appeared
rushing toward the group, frantic- with,
excitement." Save the man with the red
hair !' he vehemently shouted ;' and the
exertions which were made in con!
quence of his earnest appeals proved suc
cessful, and the red haired individual, i
an exhausted condition, was safely land
ed. He owes me eighteen dollars' said
his rescuer, drawing a long breath and '
looking approvingly at his "assistants.
The red haired man's friend had not a
creditor at the Sault, and in defalf of a ,
competing claim, was allowed to pay his
debt to nature. And 111 tell jou wha t
it is stranger, said the narrator of the
foregoing incident, complacently draw
ing a moral therefrom ' a man'II never
know how necessary he is to society, if
he don't make his life valuable to bit
friends as well as to his selL'BlacJcwood
The ascension of Mr. Elliott from. Cam
Place yesterday evening, was entirely
successful. He did not exactly go up oa
horseback, as his own position was. some
distance above the animal ; but he took
up with him, suspended in air with oat
stretched legs, a real live horse. . The
horse seemed to be consideiablj aston
ished as the earth receded ; he turned
his head from side to side, and seemed
to cock his eye quite knowingly at the
crowd beneath ; but finding no use for
his legs, he displayed his good "hcrse
sense," by holding them perfectly still,
no doubt fully convinced that he. was
" learning the iopes." The balloon is a
monster in size, and looked beautiful aa
it rose through the clear evening air.
At a considerable elevation, it took a di
rection a little west of north, and sailed
away to astonish the natives about the
Missouri river. Some editors went up "
with Mons.'Godard in New Orleans ; bat
this is, we believe, the first horse bal
looning ever done in the U. S. St. Ism
is Intelligencer, 2st iW.
FACTS FOR THE CURIOUS.
If a tallow candle be placed in a gun,
and shot at a door, it will go through
without sustaining any injury ; and if a
musket-ball be fired into water, it will
not only rebound, bat be flattened as if
fired against a solid substance. - A mus
ket ball may be fired through a pane of
glass, making a hole the size of the ball
without cracking the glass ; if the glass
be suspended by a thread, it will make
no difference, and the thread will not
even 'Vibrate. In the Arctic regions,
hen the thermometor is below zero,
persons can converse more than a mile
distant Dr. Jamieson asserts that he
heaid, every word of a sermon at the
distance of two miles. A mother has
been distinctly heard talking to he child,
on a still day across a water a mile wide.